


You're Home

by GoingtoHeavenClarence



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, Feels, Gen, Heaven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 03:02:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11221917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoingtoHeavenClarence/pseuds/GoingtoHeavenClarence
Summary: Just a sweet little drabble about Bobby





	You're Home

Bobby woke with a start, book in his lap and an old western quietly playing on the television. The last thing he remembered was getting pulled out of hell, seeing his boys for all too brief a time and then a flash of blue and white.

This was home, but not like it was in recent years. It was tidy, but not too tidy. The bookshelves were full and the floor was swept, but the smell of motor oil and impending summer rain hung in the air. 

He crept through the house, wondering who or what was behind this. He pinched himself, moved the radio dial around, checked the fridge for beer, it all seemed real.  
He picked up the phone and tried to call one of Dean’s numbers, but nothing happened.

As Bobby headed towards the stairs to investigate further, he heard the soft lilt of a voice singing just far enough away that he couldn’t make out the words. He turned on his heel and swung open the old, but sturdy screen door.

The salvage lot was there, but everything was just a little brighter, many of the cars looked like they just needed a little tune up and they would be good to go. A sign read “Singer Family Salvage”.

Bobby shook his head and followed the sweet song to the side of the house. There stood a garden, surrounded by a low white fence, with an arched entrance with a small, swinging gate. 

He quietly stepped inside, greeted by several rows of summer vegetables and a small rock-paved path leading to a yellow and green shed. Either side of the shed was flanked with flowers. Dahlias and daisies, Bobby can’t understand why he knows that, but he does. 

A woman stood in the doorway, quietly humming as she hung up her garden tools and took off her gloves. 

“You’re home, Bobby,” she says as she turns, one hand mindlessly rubbing her stomach.

“Karen?” he gently grabs her shoulder then looks from her eyes to her swollen belly.

“Yes, Bobby,” her smile is serene as she plucks a daisy and sticks it in his shirt pocket, “this is our heaven.”


End file.
